


So Many Goodbyes

by KLStarre



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4354874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KLStarre/pseuds/KLStarre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shouldn't moving on be easier by now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Many Goodbyes

            The Doctor stood in the TARDIS, back to the door, seemingly engrossed in the controls. His face was no longer blank, as it has been up until he had dropped River off at Stormcage. Now, etched in his eyes, his face, his posture, was an ancient sadness.

            Gone from his movements was the reckless joy for which this form had become known; gone the silliness. He operated the controls mechanically, keeping his eyes down, and when he arrived at his destination he turned the handbrakes off, even the simple noise that would have been made had he not, too painful to endure.

            The TARDIS landed on 21st century Earth with a soft thump as air rushed out to allow it to take its place. Other than that, there was no reaction, not even from the small town that situated just under a kilometre away. The doors creaked on their hinges as the Doctor stepped out, placing his foot gently on the ground, and then again as he closed them behind him.

            He looked around and shook his head. “This isn’t Victorian London…”

            With that he turned and kicked the TARDIS. It shuddered, and he jumped back, clutching his foot, shouting, “I _said_ Victorian London!”

            He froze, realizing what he had done, and stepped up to the TARDIS, placing his hand on it. “I’m sorry, old girl,” he whispered, “you know I didn’t mean it.”

            He stepped into the TARDIS once more and checked the scanner on the console. He had been right-it definitely wasn’t London, Victorian era or otherwise. “Why did you bring me here?” he asked, and then shrugged. It didn’t really matter, anyway. Not much did. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he wanted to go to eighteen forty whatever London, but it felt important, and by now he had learned to trust his instincts.

            He reset the TARDIS controls, pressed the timey-wimey button, and stepped back. Watching through the scanner, he saw the TARDIS start to dematerialize and then freeze halfway through the process. “Stop that!” he said, perhaps a bit louder than necessary. “I apologized!” If it heard him, the TARDIS did not acknowledge him in any way, and remained frozen, halfway between destinations. He sighed-which was becoming more and more of a habit- and pulled the lever that sent the TARDIS back to its previous destination. Thankfully, _that_ seemed to work, and it fully materialized once again.

            The Doctor checked the scanner once more, worried now, but it looked clear, and so he jumped halfheartedly down to the door and, cautiously, pushed it open.

            He walked out the door, expecting an attack any moment.

            He circled the TARDIS, reached the back of the phone booth, saw nothing, and relaxed.

            He continued walking back to the front of the TARDIS, intending to try again, and froze.

            Staring straight ahead, not daring to blink, he fumbled behind him for the TARDIS’s door handle. He found it, tried to turn it, and panicked. The door was locked.

            His eyes were starting to water, and he knew that there was about a one in a megatrilizillion chance that he could unlock the TARDIS with his back to it. Really, and he should have realized this sooner, there was only one choice.

            Hand on the TARDIS, the Doctro blinked, hoping against hope that, for once, luck wouls side with him.

            The Weeping Angel that had somehow come with him from Manhattan blurred, its stone arm coming forward faster than the sound of its movements could reach the Doctor’s ears. Cold rock gripped his arm, and the Doctor opened his eyes as he was sucked backwards through a smaller, less volatile version of the time vortex.

            Honestly, he should have been worried. Actually, forget worried, he should have been _terrified._ But he couldn’t bring himself to be, not when he was so close to maybe seeing Amy Pond once again. And Rory, of course.

            Back in the 21st century, the TARDIS pulsed as she dematerialized, following her thief through time once more. The Weeping Angel blurred again, but the TARDIS was already insubstantial.

            The Doctor landed on his feet, looking around himself at Manhattan nearly 100 years ago, and smiled.

∞

            The smile faded to a grimace as he realized that the TARDID hadn’t come with him. Immediately, he reached into the inside coat of his jacket, found his screwdriver, and exhaled. _Well,_ he thought, _at least that’s there._ He quickly used it to scan around the alley he had landed in for both the TARDIS and danger, but found neither. What he did find, however, was more worrying than any alien-including the Daleks-that he could think of.

            Replacing the screwdriver in his pocket, he set out through the dirty alleyways of Manhattan, following the trail of mourning.

            Around him rose grey, colorless apartment and office buildings, and he found himself ruminating on how much it could all be improved by a splash of color. The more he thought about it, the more he managed to convince himself that Amy couldn’t possibly be happy here, that maybe she would come back with him. As always, he didn’t spare Rory a second thought.

            With a start, probably induced by his arrival at a dead end, the Doctor realised he was lost. Granted, that wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, but he was beginning to get worried. After all, _he_ was the only one with cause to be _that_ upset, wasn’t he?

            And then he realized. His face slackened as he was filled with the terror of his mind’s image. Out whipped the sonic screwdriver, and he _ran_.

∞

            The ceremony was almost over when he got there, panting and sweating and out of breath, but from the black formalwear that everyone was clad in, from the pervasive silence, he knew that he had been right. The black, wrought iron gates were open and people were flooding out, eyes cast downward, voices muted. The Doctor was standing by a tree-the cemetery was towards the edge of the city, where vegetation was more likely to survive more than a year-outside of the gates, and no one noticed him as they walked in different directions, in groups of two or three.

            Eventually, the cemetery was empty, leaving only one woman standing by a gravestone towards the edge opposite the Doctor. The woman was old, her hair more grey than red, but she was the same woman who had left him for her husband, months ago. Or years, in her timezone.

            The same husband that was now dead. He shifted position slightly, and the movement caught her gaze, causing her to look up at him. A slight smile touched her lips-or was that just his imagination?-when she saw him, and he took that as permission to step inside the gate and walk to her.

            She didn’t look up when he reached her side, and for a while the two of them stood there, sharing the silence. “He was a good man,” the Doctor said, eventually.

            Amy looked at him, anger flashing across his face. “And yet, when you knew him, you could barely remember his name.”

            The Doctor had no response to that, so they went back to silence, until Amy said, “We should go.”

            He nodded, and together they walked to the gate. When they reached it, the Doctor took a deep breath, looking at her. “You could come with me, now. We could go back to how it used to be.”

            Her eyes were pitying as she looked up at him, pushing the gate open. It didn’t squeak, although it should have. “No, Doctor. We couldn’t. I made my choice, and I stand by it. “

She walked away, and he watched her until she was out of sight, and for a long while after. And then, when night came, he left, feeling numb. He had already said goodbye, after all.

So many goodbyes.


End file.
